by Ee, Susan
But now, I’ve found an agnostic angel.
“You’re making my head hurt.” I sit down at the table.
“The Messenger’s word is accepted as the word of God. We act on it. Always have. Whether each of us believes it or not—whether even the Messenger believes it or not—is another story.”
“So if the next Messenger says to kill off all the remaining humans just because he feels like it, then the angels would do it?”
“Without question.” He bites into the last slice of rare steak.
I let that sink in while Raffe gets up to prepare to leave for his surgery.
He puts on his pack. It is wrapped with white towels to give the impression that wings are folded beneath the jacket.
I get up to help him adjust his jacket. “Won’t this look suspicious?”
“There won’t be many eyes where I’m going.”
He walks to the front door and pauses. “If I’m not back by dawn, find Josiah. He’ll help you get out of the aerie.”
Something tight and hard clenches inside my chest.
I don’t even know where he’s going. Probably to some back alley butcher working with filthy surgical tools under dim lights.
“Wait.” I point to the sword lying on the counter. “What about your sword?”
“She won’t like all those scalpels and needles near me. She can’t help me on the operating table.”
My insides flutter with unease at the thought of him lying helpless on a table surrounded by hostile angels. Not to mention the possibility of a resistance attack during the surgery.
Should I warn him?
And run the risk that he’ll tell his people? His old friends and loyal soldiers?
What would he do if he knew anyway? Cancel the operation and give up his only hope for getting his wings back? Not a chance.
Raffe steps out the door without a word of warning from me.
CHAPTER 34
I’m not sure what to do except pace.
I’m too worked up to think straight. My mind tumbles with what might be happening with Paige, my mother, Raffe and the freedom fighters.
How long can I eat and sleep and lounge around in luxury while Paige is somewhere nearby? At this rate, it could be weeks before we get a lead on her. I just wish there was something I could do instead of waiting here helpless until Raffe gets out of surgery.
From what I’ve seen, humans aren’t allowed anywhere in the aerie without an angel escort. Unless they’re servants….
I discard half a dozen crazy ideas that involve things like jumping a servant my size and stealing her clothes. That may work in the movies, but I would probably be condemning someone to starvation if she gets kicked out of the aerie. I may not approve of humans working for angels, but who am I to judge anyone’s way of surviving this crisis and feeding their family?
I pick up the phone and order a bottle of champagne off their room service menu. I consider asking for Dee-Dum but decide to leave it to chance for now.
In the World Before, I wouldn’t even legally be able to drink, much less order a bottle of champagne to be delivered to a thousand-dollar-a-night suite. I pace, thinking through all the possible scenarios. Just when I’m convinced I’m going to wear a circular track in the plush carpet, someone knocks on the door.
Please, please let it be Dee-Dum.
I open the door to a mousy looking woman. Her dark eyes gaze out from beneath a mop of frizzy brown hair. I’m so disappointed I can taste the metallic tang of it in my mouth. I’m so frustrated it’s not Dee-Dum that I seriously consider jumping her for her black and white uniform. She wears a long black skirt with a crisp white blouse under a black waist jacket that resembles a female version of a tuxedo. She’s a little bigger than me but not by much.
I open the door and indicate that she should come in. She walks to the coffee table to put down her tray.
“Do you have family?” I ask.
She turns and looks at me like a startled rabbit. She nods, causing her frizzy hair to flop over her eyes.
“Does this job keep them fed?”
She nods again, her eyes turning wary. She may have been an innocent a couple of months before, but that might as well have been a lifetime ago. The innocence in her eyes flees much too fast. This girl had to fight to get her job, and by the look of her grim expression, she’s had to fight to keep it, too.
“How many of you make deliveries for room service?”
“Why?”
“Just curious.” I consider telling her that I’m looking for Dee-Dum, but I don’t want to jeopardize him. There’s too much I don’t understand about angel society and servant politics for me to start throwing around names.
“There are about half a dozen of us.” She shrugs with one shoulder, keeping her wary eyes on me as she heads back for the door.
“Do you take turns delivering things?”
She nods. Her eyes dart to the bedroom door, probably wondering where my angel is.
“Am I creeping you out?” I say it with a deliberately creepy tone. Her eyes dart back to me. I saunter toward her like a vampire with a hungry expression on my face. I’m making things up as I go, but I can tell that I’m freaking her out. I guess that’s better than being laughed at for acting strange.
Her eyes widen as I approach her. She claws at the doorknob and practically runs out.
Hopefully, that takes her out of the running for making deliveries to this room. At most, I just need to order five more things.
It turns out I only have to order two more things before Dee-Dum comes to my door with a large slice of cheesecake. I close the door quickly behind him and lean against it as though this will force him to help me.
The first thing I want to ask is when the attack will happen. But he has seen me in the company of angels, and I’m afraid he’ll think of me as a threat if I start asking questions about their attack plans. So I stick to the basics.
“Do you know where they’re keeping the children?” I don’t think my voice is very loud, but he whips his hand down in a shushing motion anyway. His eyes dart to the bedroom.
“They’re gone,” I whisper. “Please help me. I need to find my little sister.”
He stares at me for a long moment. He pulls out a pen and a pad of paper, the kind a waiter might use to take your order. He scribbles something on it and hands it to me. The note reads, “Leave now while you can.”
I put my hand out for his pen and write on the same piece of paper. A few months ago, it would have been natural to use a new piece of paper for a new note, but now, the paper we have may be the last we ever have. “Can’t. Must rescue sister.”
He writes, “Then you’ll die.”
“I can tell you stuff about them you probably don’t know.”
He raises his eyebrow in question.
What can I say that he would be interested in? “They’re in political turmoil. They don’t know why they’re here.”
He writes, “How many?”
“Don’t know.”
“Weapons?”
“Don’t know.”
“Plan of attack?”
I bite my lip. I don’t know anything that’s immediately relevant to military strategy, which is obviously what he’s looking for.
“Please help me,” I whisper.
He gives me a long look. His eyes are calculating, devoid of emotion, which is an odd combination with his pink, freckled face. I don’t need this cold-hearted spymaster. What I need is the boy-next-door Dee-Dum who jokes and entertains.
I write, “You owe me, remember?” I give him a half-smile, trying to nudge him back to the playful twin I met at the camp. It works, sort of. His face warms up a bit, probably remembering the girl fight. I wonder how bad the damage was after. Did the demons leave them alone after we left?
He writes, “I’ll take you to where there might be kids. But then you’re on your own.”
I’m so excited I hug him.
“Is there anything
else I can get for you, Miss?” He nods vigorously at me, telling me to order something new.
“Uh, yeah. How about…a chocolate bar?” Paige’s bite-sized chocolates are still at the bottom of my pack in the car. I would give a lot to be able to give her chocolate as soon as I see her.
“Of course,” he says as he pulls out a lighter and ignites the paper we’d been writing on. “I can get that for you right away, Miss.” The flames quickly consume the little note, leaving behind only curling remnants and the lingering scent of burnt paper.
He runs the water in the sink at the bar, where he drops the burning note until all traces of the ashes are gone. Then he picks up the fork from the tray and scoops an enormous portion of the cheesecake into his mouth. With a wink, he leaves, showing me his open palm in a signal to stay.
I wear down the carpet some more, pacing in circles until he returns. I think about his refusal to say anything out loud and what he might be doing here.
It seems like the note-writing thing is overly cautious considering the thickness of the walls and the racket in the aerie. I think Raffe would have warned me if the conversations in the rooms could be heard. But I suppose Obi’s people don’t have the benefit of an angel telling them they’re talking too loud. Despite all of Obi’s spies and contacts, it’s possible that I know more about angels than any of them.
When Dee-Dum returns, he brings a servant’s uniform and a large bar of milk chocolate with hazelnuts. I change into the black and white outfit as fast as I can. I’m grateful to see that the shoes are practical, soft-soled flats made for waitresses who are on their feet all day. Shoes I can run in. Things are looking up.
When Dee-Dum takes out his pad of paper, I tell him the angels can’t hear us. He gives me a skeptical look even after I reassure him. He’s finally startled into speaking when I pick up Raffe’s sword.
“What the hell is that?” His voice is low but at least he’s talking. Dee-Dum stares at the sword as I strap the scabbard onto my back.
“Dangerous times, Dee-Dum. Every girl should have a blade on her.” I have to strap it upside-down and at an angle so that it fits my back without the hilt sticking out through my hair.
“That looks like an angel’s sword.”
“Obviously not, otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to lift it, right?”
He nods. “True.”
There’s too much conviction in his voice for a man who’s never tried lifting one for himself. My guess is that he’s tried it several times.
I test the leather thumb strap around the guard to make sure I can unlatch it easily to draw the sword one-handed.
He’s still looking at me a little suspiciously, like he knows I’m lying about something but can’t put his finger on what. “Well, I guess it’s quieter than a gun. But where’d you find a thing like that?”
“In a house. The owner was probably a collector.”
I throw on the short jacket that goes with the uniform. It’s a little big for me so it hangs over the upside-down sword nicely. It doesn’t quite cover the sword’s pommel, but it’ll pass a casual inspection. My back doesn’t entirely look natural but close enough. My long hair hides some of the unnatural line.
Dee-Dum clearly wants to interrogate me about the sword, but can’t seem to think of the right questions. I gesture for him to lead the way.
~
The hardest thing to remember as I walk through the party crowd in the lobby is to behave normally. I’m hyper-conscious of the sword pommel gently bouncing off my hip as I walk. I keep wanting to slink into the shadows and disappear. But in the servants’ uniforms, we are invisible so long as we behave as expected.
The only ones who seem to remotely notice us are other servants. Fortunately, they have no time or energy to really take note of us. The party is really in full swing now, and the servants are practically running to keep up with their work.
The only person who looks closely at me is the night clerk who checked us in. I have a bad moment when his eyes lock onto mine and I see the light of recognition. He glances at Dee-Dum. They exchange a look. Then the clerk goes back to his paperwork as if he saw nothing unusual.
“Wait here,” says Dee-Dum and leaves me in the shadows while he walks to the desk clerk.
I wonder how many resistance members have infiltrated the aerie?
They talk briefly, then Dee-Dum heads toward the entrance, waving for me to follow. His pace has picked up, his walk more urgent than before.
I’m a little surprised when Dee-Dum takes us out of the building. The crowd waiting outside has swelled and the guards are too busy to notice us.
I’m even more surprised when he leads us around the building and into a dark alley. I’m half-running to keep up.
“What’s going on?” I whisper.
“Plans have changed. We have almost no time. I’ll show you where to go, then I have things I need to do.”
No time.
I trot after him in silence, trying to stay calm.
For the first time, I’m unable to control the doubts eating away at me. Can I find Paige in time? How will I ever manage to get her out of here on my own without a wheelchair? I can carry her on my back, piggyback style, but I won’t be able to run or fight like that. We’ll just be a big, clumsy target in a shooting gallery.
And what about Raffe?
To our right, there’s a gated driveway down to the underground garage of the aerie. Dee-Dum leads us towards it.
I’m acutely aware that we are unarmed humans on the street at night. I feel even more vulnerable when I catch a glimpse of watching eyes along the alley where dark lumps of people lie huddled out of the wind. Nothing about those eyes strikes me as preternatural, but I’m no expert.
“Why didn’t we just go down from the lobby?” I ask.
“Someone’s always watching those stairs. You have a much better chance of getting in through this back way.”
Beside the gated driveway is a metal door that leads into the garage. Dee-Dum hauls out an impressive ring of keys. He flips through the keys and hurriedly tries a few.
“You don’t know which one it is? And here, I thought you were the prepared type.”
“I am,” he says with a mischievous grin. “But these aren’t my keys.”
“You really have to teach me that pickpocketing trick sometime.”
He glances up to reply, but his face morphs into a troubled expression. I turn to see what he’s seeing.
Shadows slip out of the dark alley, approaching us.
Dee-Dum moves out of his corner and loosens into a fighter’s stance, the way a wrestler might get ready for impact. I’m still trying to decide whether to run or fight when four men surround us.
With the moon peeking in and out of storm clouds, I get impressions of sour unwashed bodies, tattered clothes and feral eyes. I wonder how they got into the restricted area near the aerie? Then again, I might as well wonder how rats get into places. They just do.
“Hotel skanks,” says one. His eyes take in our clean clothes, our freshly showered bodies. “Got any food on you?”
“Yeah,” says another. This one plays with heavy chains, the kind you see hanging from mechanic’s garages. “How about some of those fancy whore’s d’oeuvres?”
“Hey, we’re all on the same team here,” says Dee-Dum. His voice is calm, soothing. “We’re all fighting for the same thing.”
“Hey, jerk-off,” says the first guy closing the circle tighter around us. “When was the last time you went hungry, huh? Same team, my ass.”
The guy with the chains starts waving them around like a lasso. I’m pretty sure he’s showing off, but I’m not sure that’s all he plans to do with it.
My muscles brace for a fight. I wish I could have had some practice with the sword before using it in a fight, but it’s my best bet to deflect the chains.
I unlatch the thumb strap and slide the sword out of its scabbard.
CHAPTER 35
“Penryn?”
One of the lumps lying in the alley uncoils and steps out of the shadows.
My mother opens her arms wide as she walks toward me. Her cattle prod dangles from her wrist like an oversized charm bracelet for the insane. My heart drops to my stomach. She has a huge smile on her face, completely unaware of the danger she faces.
A cheery, yellow sweater flaps in the wind around her shoulders like a short cape. She passes through the men like she doesn’t see them. Maybe she doesn’t. She grabs me in a bear hug and spins me around.
“I was so worried!” She strokes my hair and looks over me for injuries. She looks delighted.
I wiggle out of her grasp, wondering how I can protect her.
I’m about to bring up my sword when I realize the men have backed off, widening the circle around us. The men have suddenly gone from menacing to nervous. The chain that was being used as a threatening lasso only a moment ago is now being used as worry beads as the guy anxiously fidgets with the links.
“Sorry, sorry,” says the first guy to my mother. His hands are up as though in surrender. “We didn’t know.”
“Yeah,” says the guy with the chain. “We didn’t mean any harm. Really.” He eases back nervously into the shadows.
They scatter into the night, leaving me and Dee-Dum to watch in wonder.
“I see you’ve made friends, Mom.”
She scowls heavily at Dee-Dum. “Go away.” She grips her cattle prod and points it at him.
“He’s okay. He’s a friend.”
She smacks me on the head hard enough to bruise. “I was worried about you! Where have you been? How many times have I told you not to trust anyone?”
I hate it when she does that. There’s nothing more humiliating than being smacked by your crazy mother in front of your friends.